


Binkys, blackmail and bullshit, oh my!

by NinjaWolfBaby



Series: Ageplay, Attempted humor and Alliteration, Oh my [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Adorable Cisco Ramon, Ageplay, Binky - Freeform, Blackmail, Cisco is a toddler, Confused Cisco Ramon, F/M, Gen, Nonsexual Ageplay, Pacifier - Freeform, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaWolfBaby/pseuds/NinjaWolfBaby
Summary: Cisco Ramon: resident genius and best friend of Barry Allen, gets more than he bargained for as Lisa Snart walks into his shopping cart. Next thing he knows, he's waking up on her couch.Wait.What?





	Binkys, blackmail and bullshit, oh my!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> This is my first fanfiction in 4-5 years so. Rip it apart lol.  
> Basically. Cisco is a darling little boy who needs all the affection and protection possible. Fight me on this. I dare you.

Cisco, barring a meta-shaped disaster, always wakes slowly. He rises through molasses and comforting warmth that begs he come back down, gets another hour or two paid back to whichever sleep debt he's been adding to this week. It's never enough, could never be enough, but helps the sugar he consumes to keep him mostly alert.

Today, however, he's even more reluctant to rise. He's not plastered in an uncomfortable position at Star Labs, not on his lumpy, uncomfortable mattress in his own apartment, not even on Barry and Iris’ couch, there's not enough ozone scent lingering to be the Allen-West residence. To be frank, the young genius doesn't have the faintest clue of where he's at, besides it being warm and safe and smelling hella good. Familiar too, though the memories protest his questioning prod. There's an edge of danger to the scent, cold and hard, precious and pretty and…

Holy shit.

He's on Lisa Snart’s couch.

Despite how few times they've actually crossed paths, Cisco is certain it's her. The perfume she wore was distinct, and his nose was buried in something that smelled just like her hair. Not actually her hair, thank god, but a pillow stuffed haphazardly under his cheek, sticking to it uncomfortably as he tries to raise his head. Drool. Ew. See that's why he normally…

Still mostly asleep, Cisco's hand blindly reaches out, soft brown eyes closing in deference to the blinding light in the room. Its sharp, hurting. It's a relief when his questing fingers meet the smooth plastic of his binky, easily sliding it into his mouth with a few contented, if congested and gross, sucks. There's a mystery, something with his location and the high quality silicone against his tongue, but it too early to deal with. And he hasn't gotten over that cold yet, one that had even Barry stumbling for the two hours it was in his system.

Another pull, and another clogged gurgle pulls his lips into an unhappy frown. Damnit. Why weren't his decongestants working yet? He bought them after being unable to sleep yet again and… and what? Had he taken them? There's a clear memory of putting the small blue box into his cart along with candy and a fruit or two but after. Nothing.

Wait. Not quite nothing. There was a musical, flirting laugh, a tease about his diet, or lack thereof and… a hand? Guiding his cart?

“That thing again? I had to take it away three times last night so you didn't choke on your own snot, Cisco.” Oh. So… that's what.

Lisa Snart’s voice is musical, but with a hint of underlying roughness the betrays she's getting over the same miserable cold Cisco is. Panic, especially fierce as a firm, unyielding pressure pulls the plastic shield away from pouty rosewood lips, rises thick and fierce within the young engineer. It clashes fiercely with his illness, making his groan more weak than the indignant he wants it to be. A soft ‘clink’ signals the hard plastic being gently set on the coffee table nearby, Lisa’s soft brown curls framing her face as her eyes twinkle mischievously.

He has to think of an excuse, pronto! Something like… don't some people use binkies to help with lisps? Or nighttime teeth grinding? Opening his mouth to explain, he's cut off, by the Golden Glider easily sitting on the edge of the couch. Through his blurry, unfocused eyes, she's smiling down at him, ignoring his flinch to press mercifully cool fingers to his forehead. Its gross, and she has to gently flick away strands of unusually lackluster curls, but he doesn't even try to hide how he presses into it, another groan slipping past his lips. It's just… so confusing. He's on Lisa Snart’s couch, shes stroking his hair away from his sweaty forehead, he just had his pacifier taken firmly away from him and. What? Just. What?

He tries to sit up, to gain some sort of even footing, but it only takes the female one hand to keep him in place. Right over his sternum, pressing him gently back into the soft couch. It's unfair, how easy she makes it, barely blinking at his halfhearted struggles.

“Alright. Here's what's about to happen.” He's adorable, Lisa muses. Half asleep, sick and vulnerable, hair spread like a dark halo on her pillow, illness making his eyes glazed and cheeks flushed with an attractive glow. So, confused. “I'm going to go get your cold meds. You're going to take then without a fuss and then we'll get some food in you. Not that sugar crap, actual food. After that, if you behave, I'll tell you exactly what happened last night. Understand.”

It should be a question. Cisco knows this, but even if it should… no one told Lisa that. It's all a statement. A command, about what Cisco will comply with. There's no ‘or else’ or other threat, she just expects to be obeyed. Gently, as his struggles die off to gasp greedily for air, her hand against his chest lightens, manicured fingers stroking over his soft tee shirt. Maybe it’s that, how she just expects his compliance, that makes him nod. It's no secret he's a sucker for commanding, too much to handle women. Between his weakness for Alpha-type women, his confusion, and the grogginess from both sleep and sickness, he can't stop his helpless nod. A smile, softer somehow than her previous thinly veiled threat, is his reward as she stands.

“Stay right there, Cisco.” Somehow, she isn't surprised at this, how easily he submits to her order. Lisa leaves the sick male on her couch, turning into her safe house kitchen as he attempts to figure out what just happened. She'd like to know that herself. One minute, shopping, the next, sick engineer practically running into aisles as he attempts to get to the self check out. He'd fallen asleep before the first round of meds could be administered, but he's awake now. Grabbing the small blue box from his small pile of groceries by her door, she snaps apart one of the tin foil pockets. Even as sick, as trusting, as he is right now there's no way he'd accept anything he didn't see her open in front of him. It's smart, if not exactly what she wants. That'll come in time.

By the time she's back, Cisco is partly propped up on the arm of the couch, binky hidden away in the pants hes thankfully still wearing. If he'd truly thought being semi upright would help him face Golden Glider, he was wrong. Instead, his head just hurts worse and she was still looking at him like some childish joke she only knew too well. It was downright insulting, that's what it was!

“Glider--" Before he can say much more than the first word, there's two pills on his tongue, a straw pushed in right after. He hadn't even seen her move! Granted, he may have closed his eyes to ward off nausea but still.

“I said after, Cisco. If you behave.” Again. That firm, no nonsense tone. Commanding yet soft. It's nearly impossible to disobey, harder when she doesn't try to push, allows the water filled glass to hover in his gaze. Carefully, somehow just knowing trying to take the glass isn't allowed, he slurps a small sip, just enough to get the pills down with a slight wince. His throat's sore too, after snoring all night if she did keep taking away his binky. Like drinking dessert dust. “There we go. Have some oatmeal too, it's light enough it shouldn't irritate your stomach but these work better with something down there.”

A bowl of steaming oatmeal is then pressed into his palms, Golden sitting regally on the edge of her glass table, make up already on and immaculate. It smells good, despite his confusion, tempting. Honey? Maybe cinnamon? Not his usual breakfast fare but… good. When he takes a careful bite, ignoring how surreal everything is. Unreal. It can't be happening. Lisa finding his long hidden secret, then… taking care of him? No teasing? No blackmail? This doesn't make sense.

The mystery is enough to keep his sluggish brain busy, as the oatmeal soothes his ragged throat. By the time it's done, he's feeling more like Cisco Ramon, resident genius and less like Cisco, curious toddler.

“So… um. I'm just going to get out of your hair.” Normally, here's where he would flirt, awkwardly, and maybe make a few wise ass comments. But, he can't not quite yet, standing slowly. Lisa doesn't say anything, half smirking as his hand touches the doorknob-- and seriously? Solid gold doorknobs?-- Before she stands.

“Leave and I'm posting a picture of you and your pacifier, sleeping on my couch, all over the internet. You can stop it, i know you can, but can you stop it before all of Central City’s criminals see it?”

And that's. That's just low. Cisco says as much, shoulders tense and high around his ears before he turns, face flaming.

“Thought your brother was the one onto blackmail?” Of course she's smiling, smirking smugly from her perch.

“Lenny’s always been the one to use it, but we were both taught the power of blackmail, cutie. Now, sit.” A manicured hand flicks dismissively back toward the couch. Glumly, the younger man obeys, sinking down on the still surprisingly soft couch. Seriously, if this is what a life of crime can pay for, why hasn't he gone bad? Oh right, leather man-buns. And morals. But, mostly leather man buns and the misuse of eyeliner is what's keeping him on the straight and narrow. He's seen that version of himself, so no thank you.

At first Lisa seems content to watch him squirm, leaning comfortably back on her hands and just staring. Its more uncomfortable than Cisco wants to admit, and after nearly five minutes he snaps.

“What do you want already?” Memories of the last time we was kidnapped-- Dante!-- flash through his still groggy mind, though the decongestants are helping… mostly. However, for every problem they solve, they create a new one: namely, the gunk that's congesting him only has one escape route as the medicine loosens everything, and that's down. Sniffling pathetically, he glances discretely for a tissue box, or anything to blow his nose into.

With the weird helpful-if-blackmailing kick Lisa's on, it shouldn't be a shock when she silently hands him a tissue. But it still is, and he'd appreciate a little warning or something. This constant surprise, keeping horridly wrong-footed, is pushing him closer to slipping small than he likes, especially at a time when he needs all his adult facilities possible. The foghorn loudness of ridding his nose of snot is the only noise for a long moment. It's only afterward, sinking back into the couch open mouthed to try and force a deeper breath, does Lisa speak.

“I want to know why I was shopping, and suddenly there was a sick sidekick hanging off my cart. Why, after i brought him home to protect his mostly asleep ass, he couldn't stop crying and calling for his ‘bibi’. Why, after finally figuring out you're oddly adorable even sick and little, you're trying to run out on me… and forgetting your bibi, which I had to make a three am pitstop for.” Forgetting his bibi? Yep. There it is, hanging off one long finger, somehow disappearing from his pants pocket. Magic, he's sure.

It takes a lot to fix his scowl in place, trying not to give himself away any further than he has already, definitely not pouting when his swipe at the pacifier is foiled with a tiny upward jerk.

“How is any of that your business again?” Dammit. He sounds exactly like a pouting child! Gathering the slowly fraying edges of his adult self, the young man glares. “I mean, come on Glider, I'm not ashamed of this, you can't use it against me!”

“Can't I?” Lisa smiles, slowly, holding up her phone tauntingly. On the screen, Cisco is curled up, face relaxed and binky half falling out of his mouth. It cute, if one can ignore the fever-flush and shimmering sweat dusted across his cheeks and brow. But that's not the point. “Besides, Cisco, i don't want to shame you…” A pause, because Lenny isn't the only Smart to know how to use dramatics, “I want to take care of you.”

Cisco's face is one for the record books. And, why not? Lisa snaps a half dozen pictures for the hell of it. Her little boy's cute when he's flustered, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this drabble!  
> Also. Lisa isn't following the rules here, in the last line. There should be discussions blah blah blah. But, we all know a Snart gets what a Snart wants, huh?  
> I may add more if there interest. Even if theres not. Their first playdate, a history with Eo-wells, Barry being Smol.  
> Send ideas.


End file.
